There's a tomato in my flip flop

and other complaints about my day...

1. The slipcovers I ordered off eBay which I so carefully measured to insure that they would fit my fantabulous dining room chairs arrived today. They don't fit. Too small. You can't fix too small. Dammit.

2. The pharmacist still had not heard from my dr.'s office about my migraine medication refills (both are out of refills) or my allergy/hive medication. Since FRIDAY. After DAILY FAXES. When showing up today to get Bug's new Rx's filled, they called the dr.'s office to find out that I must be seen before they will issue more refills of my non-narcotic, unfun, migraine medication that I have been taking for YEARS!!! Assholes.

3. My 9 year old son informed me that his "life is a piece of crap." Did he turn 13 last month and I didn't get the memo? Twerp.

4. When I called the dr.'s office to schedule an appointment, I told the receptionist/phone ho that I was told by my pharmacist that the Dr. was requiring me to come in before issuing refills on my medications. She said, "So, would you like to schedule an appointment?" No, I just called to see how your day was going. Dipshit.

5. Tonight, while eating my most favorite summer treat, an heirloom tomato sandwich, one of the tomato slices dove onto my flip flop. In an act of revenge, I sliced another one off the mothership and threw it on in it's predecessors place. (When I say mothership, I mean mothership. This was one of the largest tomatoes, heirloom or otherwise, I have ever seen.) Don't think I won't eat you tasty tomato. Fruit.

6. Mr. Charlie Biscuit, while resembling a cross between and Ewok and a muppet and crawling directly into my heart, snores like a freakin' drunk on a Friday night. The boy needs a Breathe-right strip. My snoring husband actually wakes to tell the dog to shut up. Soon, Mr. Biscuit's sleeping quarters are moving to Peanut's room. Dog.

I know, I really have nothing of importance to bitch about. Just daily life crap. It's the distortion of a PMS lens and end-of-summer-when-the-hell-do-they-go-back-to-school blues that knock me on my butt.

Tomorrow. A new day.